


The Miserable Life of Tom Trench

by DK_Eldritch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Afterlife, Alpha/Beta, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Businessmen, Complicated Relationships, Comrades in Arms, Dark Comedy, Depression, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fanboys - Freeform, Flashbacks, Frenemies, Gang Violence, Guitars, Happy Ending, Hell, I'm Going to Hell, Making Up, May/December Relationship, Misery, Music, Philosophy, Punk Rock, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romantic Comedy, Sex, Sexual Tension, Suicide Attempt, TV News, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DK_Eldritch/pseuds/DK_Eldritch
Summary: Despite his looks, Tom is miserable in Hell. His job treats him like trash, his co-star abuses him, there's danger everywhere he goes and all of his friends are dead. For decades he's resigned himself to his eternal fate until a chance encounter with an Australian anarchist kickstarts a relationship he never expected to have.
Relationships: Cherri Bomb/Tom Trench, Katie Killjoy/Tom Trench
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	1. More at 6

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out this fic.
> 
> This fic will be updated every Wednesday. Let me know what you think about it.

Lights blared, cameras turned on, the opening reel played and the announcers voice came on. “Sex, violence, weather. Hell’s number 1 station. This is 666 News.”

The camera swung onto the set where Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench shuffled their papers. They sat at attention while producers were yelling in their earpieces. Katie leaned into the camera. “Do you ever feel like you’re getting old? Years passing by, your new neighbors are scarier and all of your friends are dead? Well some nerds have pulled out the statistics and turns out if you died before the hippies did, chances are you’re gross.”

“That’s right,” Tom said. “Newest polling suggests the average time of death has jumped from 1963 to 1972. Reports show that while younger sinners are dying by the truckload during the exterminations, there’s just so damn many of them that they’re coming out positive.”

“That and all those old fucks at the Rhine Institute getting a beatdown from Heaven’s finest this past fall.” Footage played of a group of Extermintors cutting into a tall skyscraper and blowing the place up from the inside. Katie grinned. “Such a shame right?”

Tom slammed the table. “Those guys were real bastards anyway.”

“Say Tom, since you’re over a hundred now, how does being an old man make you feel?”

“Pretty bad Katie, but at least I still feel young, and I get to keep this cool gas mask.”

“Whatever that means. That wraps up our news for today. Coming up next, James Flambe interviews the TV Demon himself on the revolutionary new trend of TV, on the phone?”

“Looks like we’ll be in all your pants viewers.”

“Oh Tom you pompous ass.” The camera panned out and the signal was given. The two relaxed and took a load off. Three straight hours of this shit. While the rest of the crew wrapped up Katie propped her feet up and lit a cigarette. “Christ what a bland day.”

“Yep, same as always.” Tom popped off his cap so he could drink his coffee. “I wanna go home.”

Katie scrolled through her messages and opened most recent one. She almost snapped her phone in half at the sight of it. “FUCK! That asshole flaked on me!”

“Who?”

“Oh some executive. Was gonna ask for a raise.”

“Another one?”

“Yup, now my night’s gone to shit. What a pain.” Slowly her eyes drifted toward Tom and locked in, her pupils dulling to a dead haze. He started sweating.

“Katie, really? Again?” Tom was backing away from the desk. “Didn’t this just happen last week?”

Katie leaned back. Her legs stretched out and her skirt rode all the way up. She let out a warm puff of smoke. “Is it gonna be like last week?”

Tom whimpered at the thought, pressing his fingers together. “Well...”

Within ten minutes Katie was pumping Tom for all he had. The station had a designated office that was half storage room and half fuck room. The old table and casting couch were put in there just for the occasion but Katie forgot about them and threw Tom to the floor. She didn’t even have him undress as she simply pulled down her panties and unzipped his trousers. The newsman was mounted before the door even closed. Tom squirmed underneath in agony.

“H-Hold up Katie, ooh!” Tom said, trying to keep up with the sensations. “Shouldn’t we, you know, have foreplay or something?”

“Shut the fuck up,” she grunted. Her hand reached out and held down Tom by the wrists. “Just stay still and don’t blow it.”

Tom tried to hold his own under the pressure. Katie dominated him in size and his normal strength couldn’t handle the raw anger coming out of her. Whether she was alive or dead, Katie fucked to get what she wanted, from new cars to her acting career to her news station jobs, and when she couldn’t get it the lust had to go somewhere. Tom was just the easiest man to get. Complacent, meek, had a decent member on him. The quickest outlet for her ambitions.

“Ngh! Fuck yeah. That’s the spot,” she gasped, pushing into him with every ounce of rage and frustration she had. Each swing of her hips slammed Tom to the ground, splaying him out as he tried to curl back in.

“K-Katie wait, t-t-that’s too much. I’m very sensitive.”

“I said shut it. I’m getting there.” She gave no mercy, using every technique she could to maximize friction between the two of them. Every inch of him made it inside, sending out shock waves through her body.

“Katie, seriously, I’m-.”

“There, I’m almost there. I’m...I’m...” She went into a frenetic flurry, building her pleasure further and further, higher and higher. Her body was ready to dive into ecstasy when Tom started lurching and groaning. The realization hit her. She tried to finish. “Fuck, fuck fuck FUCK! No! Dammit!” It was too late.

As Tom lied there bruised and broken Katie dismounted and loomed over him, letting his failure drip out onto his pants and clean suit. She wiped of what she could and pulled her panties back up. There was nothing but disappointment in her eyes. “Pathetic.”

“I tried to tell...you.” Tom couldn’t move for the life of him. When she left she swung the door wide open so everyone could see the mess she left lying on the floor. It didn’t help that the room wasn’t soundproof and half the building could hear the booty smacking. After a few minutes he pulled himself up, wiped off what he could and took the walk of shame all the way to his locker where his bag and umbrella was stored.

Thus was another day in the miserable life of Tom Trench.


	2. Tom's Commute

Tom Trench:

Real Name: Tom Patterson

Age: 20

Hell Age: 122

Cause of Death: Mustard Gas

Cause for Damnation: Lascivious Nature during Basic, War Crimes

Occupation: News Anchor, Reporter

On the surface Tom Trench looked like your well to do Hellspawn, a guy who had clout but wasn’t going to push it on anyone. From his early days in Hell Tom took up his love for journalism to become a famed contributor for some of the best papers in Pentragram City. The man was a blessing when the World Wars had their sequels in Hell, a demon who could fight and still write by the end of the day. By the sixties he was respected enough to take on the Hellevision and become the voice of Pentagram City. It would be there where he would rise to stardom and a high class life style.

That last sentence was a lie. He never escaped that job, his journalistic pursuits dried up and his wages stagnated. Unlike others, he wasn’t sent to Hell for shady business practices. The world of media was cutthroat and he was the safe piece that everyone could keep around. It was baffling to see him alive after all this time.

When it was time to go Tom opened up his umbrella and took out into the rain. The waterworks had been on for a week straight. “Maybe I oughta take a cab today,” Tom said to himself. “No, I gotta save for bills. Probably try and rob me anyway. I’m a tough guy too ya know?” He decided to try and pull one over but the first one that came by zoomed by and soaked him head to toe. He kept walking.

It was 8 P.M. at night. Not many folks were hitting the street due to the weather so Tom walked relatively free. The homeless were still rampant, new hipsters and old drug abusers scurrying around like rats, but if you showed no fear they wouldn’t attack you. This meant Tom was sometimes attacked, but Tom always had a gun on him to defend himself. Hell was a cruel place. Even as he walked he could hear the constant string of crime around him. Not that there was any crime, that was ordinary citizen behavior.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted. Maybe I’ll get takeout again. Get something fruity so I can blend it. I friggin’ hate this gas mask.” He tried to pull it off but since it was his face it had some stickiness to it. “Yeah, blender it is.”

He walked a bit further and the rain dissipated, making his walk easier. There was another hour left to go before reaching home but he could take the trek. The warehouse district on the west side passed him by. It was a world full of gangs and danger, a world of dealings and planning. He was walking down a street when the warehouse next to him ignited. Tom took a deep breath.

“Relax Tom, that almost triggered the shell shock,” he groaned. “Who’s causing trouble now?”

Tom peeked around the corner to see a war zone in action. A dozen or so demons were opening fire on someone on the rooftops above them and were being greeted with bombs in return. Bits of debris and body parts blew everywhere as a lady touched down and pitched a few skull faced grenades into the loading docks. The sheet metal structure blew out and took a section of the roof with them. By the time the smoke cleared she had brought everything down to rubble and chunky demon flesh. Tom stood there in shock.

“Hey,” he said to himself. “That’s the hot broad from the news a few weeks ago.” And it was. The infamous arsonist Cherri Bomb a dazzling display of explosive energy. Tomp shook his head. The media images did her no justice. She was a lot hotter in person, especially with the wet hair and leggings. Somewhere in Tom’s head the three main members of his subconscious convened, Newsman Tom, Sad Tom, and Horny Tom. It was obvious who was getting the most out of this.

Cherri Bomb caught him in the corner of her eye and lit up another bomb. “Hey, you looking for trouble?”

“Uh, no, no.” Tom said, walking out toward her like an idiot. “I just, erm, you’re Cherri Bomb right?”

Cherri flipped her hair. “That’s me. What are you a fan?”

“Yes, wait no, but yeah, sure.” Tom’s brain was going in circles. The three Toms were fighting for what to say. Newsman Tom won. “I did a segment on yours and Sir Pentious’ turf war. Congrats on that.”

“Hey, thanks mate.” She shook his hand. “Just got more work to do y’know? Remove some extra competition.”

Tom nodded. “Gotta keep the streets in line right?”

“Yeah, yeah...Well look I gotta go before some shit lords come for me.” She passed him by and made it for the entrance.

“Wait, hold up!” She stopped but she wasn’t hearing a reason why. Tom froze. There were a hundred things he wanted to say, the least obscene one being ‘go out with me,’ but he lost his dating skills decades ago. Not that it’d help. Cherri was an eighties girl. Despite his modernity Tom’s techniques with the ladies were eighty years expired. His hands reached into his jacket pockets and he found a pen and paper. The three Toms reconvened, and Sad and Horny Tom told Newsman Tom to keep it up. “Would you mind if I have an interview?”

Cherri scanned him up and down. Seemed legit, and something she had interest in. “Where at?”


	3. Baby Don't Hurt Me

The Shaggy Dog was open for business and the deafening music outside let everyone know. It was a smoky joint with purple hue touching every piece of furniture in the place. Dirty concrete and chains were their specialty, a theme only fit for the meanest and toughest biker demons on this side of the city. Men stared each other down and showed off their manliness. They were peak males, and in a quiet dark corner of the bar Tom found his booth. Cherri seemed impressed, which was a relief. Tom had no idea what this place was from the outside and now there were concerns.

But still, the interview was going well. “So yeah, I’m a gangster,” Cherri said, leaning back in the booth. “I’ve got a few blokes here and there but I’m a one woman army, right? I’m gonna take over this city with my reputation alone.”

“There’s a few demons who’ve done that,” Tom replied. “So, how has that new territory been treating you?”

“It’s...gone. Someone else just moved in when I was trashing another territory. I tried pushing them out but there’s a lot of demons out here. It’s like people say. There’s no empty rooms in Hell.”

“Oh really. Tell me, is this really about territory? You’re not looking for anything else?”

“No, and fucking quote me on that, but here’s the thing you ought to remember.” She put up her fingers. “There are three things that I love most in life. I love violence. I love fighting, and I love winning. In Hell, there’s nothing better than that. I’m sure that’s a Schwarzenegger quote for that or something.”

“I don’t know who that is but okay.” Tom went down to write more in his notes. Everything he’d put down so far were scribbles. It was dark. His vision was stunted, what with the gas mask being a face and all. In this light he couldn’t write legibly even if he tried. All he’s been doing is let her talk for an hour. She was a piece of work, but her upbeat attitude brought a lot of levity. “So...uh, any hobbies you do?”

“Hobbies?”

“You know. Things you do on the side?”

“Oh, the usual. Drinking, smoking, fucking.” Her gaze went right through him, one that told him she was being honest but to back off. “What about you old man?”

“Oh nothing much, same.” Tom started to sweat. He didn’t even have something in mind. The daily grind had taken so much from him his spare time he had become a dull boy. He reached for something. “I also play guitar.”

Cherri perked up. “Hey I play bass. You any good?”

“Just a hundred years of experience under my belt, but I only play for myself. I’m not a rock star like you were.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Cherri laughed. “I was just one for a little bit.”

Tom nodded, but something from earlier in the conversation caught his attention. “You said you died pretty young at a concert. Was that it?”

“Yeah, just a freak accident. I was touring with my band Pussy Crusher all across Oz. We were the top shit on the east side and during a show down in Brunswick the cops broke in to try to bust the party up. I tried to bail but I tripped and got trampled by the crowd.”

Tom sighed. “Ain’t that something?”

“You sound like you lived to be a grandpa or some shit.”

“No, no.” Tom made an X with his arms. “I’m the same age as you.”

“You saying you’re hip?”

“Er, yeah I’m hip.”

“Then grab that guitar.” There was a band setup for a group ready to go on in the next half hour. The guitarist was watching it from the bar. “Show me what you got. Old. Man.”

Under 99% of all circumstances Tom would’ve stayed out of it. Tom under a refractory period was at 99.9%, but something in his body compelled him to leave the booth and head toward the stage. He walked up the stairs, his fingers twitching as they relearned chords that were thirty years rusty. The guitarist saw this and rushed him. “Oi you fuck get off my ax!”

“Hey I mean no trouble!” Tom put on the strap and pulled out the pic. His mind was playing everything in slow motion. The bar was going from chill to violent fast so he did the first thing that came to mind. Play. Play really fast.

The whole bar turned and faced the dorky man in the suit while he played. The guitar was plugged in so the bar had a taste of Tom’s chords, sweeps and pull offs. Everyone was very very confused, because whatever Tom was playing, he was trying too hard. Still, he was competent. He knew what he was doing despite the panic setting in, but it wasn’t enough to stop the horned demon from beating the shit out of the him and taking back his instrument. Tom was thrown to Cherri’s feet a bloody pulp. She got a laugh out of it.

“Not bad old man,” she sneered. “Maybe with enough warm up you’d get somewhere.”

“Yeah, I may be a little rusty,” he replied, letting the understatement set in.

Cherri picked the man up and spawned a few bombs behind her back. As they walked out she left a trail at her feet. “Thanks for the good time guys!” By the time the two were out the door, across the street and a block away from the bar the bombs ignited and blew out all of their windows. The sound the explosion gave Cherri an orgasmic level of satisfaction. It had a nice crack to it.

She found a bus stop up the road and dumped Tom onto a rusty bench. “Well, that was fun, but I have work to do tomorrow.” She pulled out Tom’s notebook and tossed it into his lap. A sly grin crept up her face. “I hope you enjoyed interviewing me. I sure look forward to that ‘article’ of yours.” She knew.

“Cherri please, let me explain,” Tom begged, but she was already half a block out. He rolled off the bench and came to her on his hands and knees, bloodied and bruised. “I had a really fun time with you tonight. It’s the best thing I’ve had in years.”

She turned back. “Wow, that’s really sad,” she yelled. “Then next time you see me, bring your A game.” The cyclops turned the corner and disappeared. While Tom lied there the rain picked back up. Tom’s umbrella was back at the bar. By the time he arrived home he was soaked head to toe, a drenched man in a leaking apartment.

Tom stripped himself to nothing and dropped onto his unwashed futon. The taste was still there. He could feel that sensation that had been dull to him for such a long time. It was a strange sort of affection. It felt like admiration, love even. There was no trusting it, that was for sure, but it tantalized him, asking him for more. He rolled in his bed. A resolution had to be made.


	4. The News'll Love This

The next morning Tom came into work with a Tommy Gun. No one was expecting Tom to go postal but it quickly became one of the few things that made the sluggish morning crew wake up and pay attention to their surroundings. And this was all done an hour before Tom’s usual shift. He took the bus this time, which was usually a bad move. The bus system was notorious for their gangs, drugs and tendency to rob and assault riders. However that problem could be bypassed if you had a Tommy Gun, because no one in their right mind was going to try to beat up a man with a Tommy Gun pointing at them and Tom owned that Tommy Gun.

He didn’t use it though. He locked it up with another large case with him in his locker and went around the building like normal. The relief over the crew was immense. The walking war story kept to himself and practiced his lack of facial expressions to the best of his abilities. An assistant with a scraggly beard came up to him. “Uh, Mr. Trench, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to be intimidating,” he replied, his voice deep and serious. “Is it working?”

“No sir.”

He made his voice even deeper. “How about now?”

“No.”

“Crap.”

He went into the green room where Katie was prepping her makeup kit for the evening news report. After the meetings she would need three hours to apply before she’d be TV presentable. Tom’s entrance caught her by surprise. “Jesus you’re here early.”

“I got lucky today,” he replied. Despite the abuse he took yesterday everything was business as usual between him and Katie. It was easier to bury the resentment than to act on it. “Do you usually get here this early?”

“I live down the block. High rise penthouse, a luxurious station for a woman like myself. Not that you’d know.”

Tom crossed his arms at her. “Yeah I wouldn’t know. You’ve never invited me to your place.”

“I’m never home. I’m too busy schmoozing with all the celebrities mansions to care about where I live.”

Tom laughed. “Do you use that dried up clam for everything around here?”

This caught her attention. “Good question. Do that still have a brain behind that mask or did it move down to your dick?”

The door to the green room open and beardy assistant came in to ruin their tension. “Uh guys, news meeting is going to be in the break room today. Is that alright?”

The two looked at the tree like man, practically pressed against each other in their quest for cheap jabs. They gave the middle finger. “Yeah sure whatever.” And then he left. They went back to locking horns.

When the evening news came around the theme of the show was about death. Tom took up the story after the break. “The Cemetery, a place for the fallen. In life these were solemn places. Everything was made to preserve and to honor memories of our loved ones. But luckily for us our Cemetery always has a rotating lot and the numbers are back up again.”

“That’s right Tom,” Katie took over. “Now that’s its been a few weeks, folks who managed to avoid the extermination have been able to literally pull themselves together and leave the Cemetery. Let’s go to Sylph Marlow for the on the ground report. Slyph?”

The footage cut to a live feed of a tiny pixie in a full hazmat suit. Behind her was the mountain range of garbage and sewage known as the Cemetery. “Good evening Katie,” she said, her voice barely understandable through the mask. Subtitles came up. “I’m currently at the entrance to the Cemetery where as you can see, thousands of filthy naked sinners are making their trip back into Pentagram City after a months long reconstruction. Let’s talk to one of them. Excuse me sir. What brought you to this place?”

“Look, Imma tell you one thing and one thing only.” The demon took the microphone with two fingers. He was big, he was blue and he was pissed. “Mr. Big Shot Valentino, your shit is pushed. You hear me? Once I get my pimp power back I’m going to slap your gigantic ass into the next century I swear to god.”

Slyph struggled for the mic. “Give that back! Also, how would you rate your experience in the Cemetery?”

“Fucking Hell bitch! I was in twenty different pieces. Half of me was dissolved in battery acid. It was bullshit!”

She pulled the mic back. “Back to you Katie.”

“Ain’t that a hoot,” Katie chuckled. “You know I was put in the Cemetery once too. Some jack off cut my head off on the street in ‘98. Took a whole week for the head to reconnect.”


	5. This is What Happens When You Don't Ask for Phone Numbers

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. The second the producer let him go he loaded up for war at his desk. Multiple drums were prepared, his usual sidearm was cleaned and oiled and his large case was protected and reinforced with steel. When he was done he hoisted everything up on his back and took a deep breath. He needed to pump himself up. “C’mon, get it together, get it together Tom. You can do it. YOU CAN DO IT!” He stopped when he noticed the rest of the office was giving him a blank stare. His work had been echoing across the work space for an hour by now. “Not for you guys, heh heh. You guys are great.” He packed up and scrammed as fast as possible.

Night hit the city. The red skies dimmed to a lower shade of red and the streets were awash in yellow street lamps. Over in the warehouse district folks were loading up for the night and getting  
ready to hit the bars. Two demons kept guard outside of their hideout on a busy street corner. One of them took to a big bottle of brandy and passed it off to his buddy.

“Rain finally cut out today,” he said.

  
“Yeah fucking finally.” The demon tipped the bottle and partook in some pre-gaming. “You hear about that shit that happened a few doors down?”

  
“Yeah Marshall’s gang got fucked. It was some explosives that did them in. We gotta keep on alert.”

  
“You know what they look like?”

  
“No idea. They’re all in chunks in the Cemetery.”

  
The demon peered across the street. “Do you think they look like that guy?”

  
“Nah a pansy like him wouldn’t do it.”

  
“It looks like he’s going to play us a song or some s-.”

  
Tom gunned them down before they could even react. Two points for Tom, but he certainly kicked the hornet’s nest. Demons came out the front door by the handful. He took up a defensive position behind a brick wall and laid down suppression fire, pinning them down. The drums packed a lot of ammo but it wasn’t enough to keep the guys from coming out and returning fire. Old memories kicked into gear, old reflexes. Tom’s soldier days possessed him, doing what they could to keep him alive. Unfortunately it was trench warfare so he took pot shots while staying as far away from the warehouse as he could. He didn’t realize it, but there was a lot of fear and cowardice in his fighting style.

  
Thirty minutes passed and no ground had been made. There was no shortage of ammo between either side but Tom was getting tired. He got a few shots in but he wasn’t coming out like a Rambo Commando. He needed to get brave, but practicality sounded sexier in his mind. Morale was low. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned. “Can you all get shot by your own bullets or something?”  
It was then that an explosion rocked the warehouse and a bunch of bodies went everywhere. See? That wasn’t so hard, Tom thought. At last the bait had lured her in. From the rear Cherri Bomb emerged throwing her wares left and right, igniting another storage building and sending the men to the Cemetery. Tom finally had the distraction needed to look like a commando, marching into the perimeter with a Tommy Gun in one hand and a pistol in the other. He smoked out the remainder and popped off. Mission Accomplished. Cherri saw him in the distance and she looked like she wanted to laugh.

  
“Holy fucking shit,” she ended up laughing. “You actually did something this freaking stupid.”

  
“Hey come on, I’m a real gangster babe,” Tom replied, tugging on his tie with his pistol hand. “They were giving me trouble so I gave them some of the one-shot two-shot am I right?” He waited. No response. Even he could feel the cringe coming off him. “So, uh what brings you around here?”

  
“I may have saw a convoy of boys on my way home,” she said. “They were coming this way and were in a real big hurry. Don’t worry. I blew them all up. It was, like, thirty guys. After that I just sorta, walked by.”

  
Tom stared off in the distance and spotted smoke billowing out a few blocks ahead. A cold realization set in. “Heh, thirty guys. Heh heh, that’s a lot of fire power.”

  
“Oh yeah.” Cherri walked up to him and tapped his case. “So, what’s this?”

  
“This? Well I’m glad you asked.” Tom put it down and opened the latches. He spun it around and presented his prized possession to Cherry. “It’s my guitar. Pretty nice huh?”

  
She was dumbfounded. “Did you-.”

  
“I brought it to work to practice! Yeah, that’s right.” Tom was on full alert. The brain was scrambling to make sense of his bullshit. “I mean, after last night I realized I need to work on my skills a bit. Gotta show off right, uh right?”

  
“I mean, yeah. How about we go somewhere fun to test those skills.” Cherri pointed down the street. “Then we’ll see what you got.”


	6. Waltz for Cherri

Right across the street from the blown away warehouses was The Shaggy Dog II. It had nothing to do with the first Shaggy Dog but due to some supernatural levels of luck it was laid out the same as the first one. Since the front of the building was a war zone not more than five minutes ago the crowd inside was much reduced, about two or three regulars and the bar owner. Cherri took her odd acquaintance and put him on the stage. It was time to make an impression.

“Alright mate, show me what you got,” she said. “If you suck you’re going to have to buy drinks for the night.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Tom started sweating. One half hour session during his lunch break was going to knock off all of the rust but his fingers had to move. He took up his guitar. “Let’s play something simple. Here’s something I came up with a long time ago.” His pic slid against the strings and he played his first chord.

August 13th , 1918, early morning. A platoon of American soldiers under General Pershings was brought up to previously controlled German territory in Amiens. The group was trailing behind the front, not close enough to jump back into trench warfare but could be called up at a moment’s notice. They carried the heavy equipment and the building materials to help the rear lines move over the trenches and onto further battlefields. Their trip through no man’s land was nightmarish.

“Jesus, look at what happened to that bastard,” said Private Colins. “Looks like he got sawed in half.”

“Can’t be as bad as these guys,” Richards noted. “Looks like they got crushed under our treads.”

“You idiot, they were run over after they died.”

“Oh fuck you’re right.”

A private named Jimms was trailing behind. “Guys I’m not feeling so well. This place reeks. I can smell the intestines.”

“Oh boo hoo,” said Private Patterson, pulling over his guitar and plucking. “Let me play you a song on the world’s smallest violin.”

“Cut it with the strings Tom,” their sergeant butted in, watching the four from behind. “If you wanna keep playing then you can go back to the regimental band.”

Tom gave a big shit eating grin. “But Sarge, if I go back the conductor’s gonna shoot me. You wouldn’t want that on your conscious would you?”

“Don’t test me boy. You best learn them morals fast. This shit is why we leave our Johnsons for the European ladies and not one of our superior officer’s wife.”

“Yeah I’ll find this guy’s wife.” He kicked a random German corpse in the head, making it fly off like a football. “That’ll go much smoother.”

Collins laughed. “I’m sure we’ll all be swimming in dames by the end of this.”

The Sergeant groaned. He wasn’t going to push it any further. not because he approved of it, but because he knew how important this was for Tom. Everyone had their own way of dealing with the stress of warfare. The fact that most of the equipment on his back belonged to another breathing human being four months ago was a lot to carry for a kid so young. He guzzled himself in water to cool himself from the warm summer heat. “Hey Tom, play something nice for us. Help wake us up.” The rest of the squad nodded.

“You like blues?”

“Hell no. Give us bluegrass.”

“You said blue so I’m going blues.”

Cherri leaned back as he finished the last riff. A cigarette had spawned in her mouth and she was dragging it with the longest breaths she could. Her body could barely hold herself up on the stage, her elbows dragging behind her dead body. The weight was hard to take. The song was really good.

“Wow that was shit!” she perked back up. “Get me some Long Islands you depressing son of a bitch.”

Tom frowned. “Dammit.”

An hour later and three and a half Long Islands later the two of them were slobbering wrecks in one of the booths. Cherri avoided every chance to explain Tom’s supposedly shitty playing but she was hammering him with war question after war question. The topic delighted her and Tom couldn’t escape. The interviewer had become the interviewee.

“I told you motherfucker!” Cherri swore. “My gramps was a war veteran!”

“You keep saying that but that doesn’t mean anything.” Tom fumbled about on the table. The one Long Island pushed to the side half gone. “I don’t know who a Private Dundee is. I never met him.”

“But the war! He had to be there.”

“I don’t know any Aussies!”

“Oh my god you really area a grandpa. I swear if I bang you tonight that’ll be a real low.”

“Pardon?”

“Pardon?”

Tom shook his head. “Look, if you wanna ask him so much why don’t you find him? I’m sure he died soonish or something.”

“I can’t!” Cherri flung her head down, covering Tom in her hair. “He’s not here in Hell. I checked. Pretty sure he went to Heaven.”

Tom threw himself out with hands to the sky. “Are you freaking kidding me!? So you’ll let him in but not me? What’s your deal God?”

“Yeah God!”

“I bet he killed a lot of people.”

“Probably knifed an Austrian in the bollocks.”

Tom screamed, catching the attention of the whole bar. He raised his guitar. “Oh it makes me so mad I want to sing about it!”

“Me too!”

The two dashed onto the stage. The exact same band had set up their equipment and saw their approach but this time they decided not to fuck with the crazy bomber lady. She stole their bass, upped the amplitude and started jamming.

“ _We know damn well not to do and we know damn well not to say!”_ Cherri belted from the gut. _“But society is in our way and fucking up our everyday!”_ She had no treble but her fingers were flying. “ _Fuck this, empty, bottle, drink me, dry!”_

Tom came in from the rear with his guitar roaring out of the case. He shredded with new confidence, his fingers able to keep up with the chord progression. He went for the microphone. Cherri sounded like an actual punk singer, so he tried to follow. _“I feel the building pressure between you and me and everything the_ _fabric of reality is pushing toward eternity! There’s nothing in here but a wasted space of old memories and it doesn’t matter if it goes away!”_

The punk girl backed off. “That was a mouthful,” she said. “What are you trying to say?”

“ _I hate my job!”_

“Uh huh.”

“ _I hate_ _the work_ _!”_

“Yeah?”

“ _I hate my_ _partner_ _!”_

“Who fucking doesn’t?”

“ _Well screw those jerks!”_

“Hell yeah man!”

“ _I hate this town! I hate this world! I hate a lot-,_ a lot of, uh, Jesus how fast am I strumming? I need a-. I need a moment.” Tom slowed down so he could catch his breath. The tempo evened out and the man let his hips control the rhythm. “ _I just wanna have fun!”_

“ _Yeah I like some fun man.”_

“ _I want my revenge!”_

“ _So where should I throw these then?”_

“ _Just one day in the sun!”_

“ _That thing is long gone buster.”_

“ _To have my old friends!”_

“ _You could use new ones sir.”_

Tom started to break down. _“I guess this is what Hell is about. I gotta find my ticket out!”_

“Do you know any place like that?” Cherri asked.

“I do.” He looked to the sky with a wistful smile. He remembered someone who came on a few weeks ago that spoke about their cause and their desire to see other follow. Deep inside it laid a dormant spark in his heart. Now he was ready to let go and accept it.

“Fucking Hell,” one of the band mates got stupid enough to walk forward. “Can you guys take this outside you’re ruining our vibes.”

Tom pulled out his pistol from his side and blasted him. “A guy named Butch Everyman came on recently and said there’s a place someone goes to when they go on a killing spree called the ‘murder zone.’ He says it’s where true happiness is found but that may have been the shrooms talking. Cherri?”

“Let’s jam and find out.” And then the two proceeded to blow away the Shaggy Dog II in a wave of gunfire and explosives. The building crumbled to the ground with all of the inhabitants freshly grounded into a powder suitable for stirring into a fresh energy drink.

The two strolled down past the west end streets with some stolen goodies and new burn marks.“ Oh wow! That felt awesome!”

“See, you’re getting the hang of this Tom.” Cherri nudged him. “See that’s how you survive Hell. You take all those problems you have and throw them at someone else. I mean, what are they gonna do, kill you?”

“Yeah you’re right.” They would kill him. “Say, let’s make this a thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know this.” Tom threw his hands out. “Let’s go out and blow stuff up, gun down some suckers, drink and stuff. You know, have fun.”

Cherri put some thought into it, taking in all the engagements she already had on her mind. “I’m pretty sure my week’s free. Same time tomorrow?”

“Alright sure.” Tom held his case in glee. The adrenaline rush was flowing through his veins and carried him the way home. By the time he got in and fell into his bed his mind was at peace. Tired, but at peace, for he knew that he found something that brought joy to his life.


	7. Tom Hits the High Life

It was time to hit the gym, pull up an 80s song with an upbeat of 150 bpm and go wild because for seven straight days Tom was living in montage world. The man was on cloud nine, a life that was a relentless barrage of work, play, drink, sleep, all on repeat. His daily routine was perfected with buses arriving on time, his co-workers refused to distract him and there plenty of bodies to scoop cash up for funding. A flame patterned bandanna adorned his forehead the whole week. He never took it off once. The amount of liberation the man was feeling was on the level of addiction, and everyone took notice. The studio was talking.

“Hey Mick,” said Juul, one of the weather reporters. “You noticed something odd about Tom over there?”

He took an eye at Tom from across the office. “Besides the fact that he’s running a Mohawk now?” He stared further. “And the black circles on his lenses?”

“I think he’s snapped. Someone’s gonna sweep him up soon.”

“That should’ve happened decades ago.” The city overall was well aware of the antics of Cherri Bomb and Tom Trench as their nightly excursions lit the west side of town ablaze. Several major distribution centers were razed and burned in their wake. It was even caught on tape during a live recording of another one of Hell’s premier shows. Pranks with Jabby.

“Alright schemers,” said Jazza in front of a local motel. “Now that you know how to build a pipe bomb, let’s try it out on this unsuspecting goofball over-.” He paused as a giant explosion erupted across the street at a pub. The cameraman swung around to see Cherri and Tom demolishing the place with their armaments.

Tom waved to the two. “Hi Jabby!”

“What the shit!?”

By the beginning of Tom’s weekend he was relaxing in his cramped cubicle with the chair leaned back and a cigarette in his filters. A few files were coming in for him to read over but he was taking them on his own time. The intern came by.

“Uh Mr. Trench?” he asked. “You need to get to your pre-news meeting.”

“Tell them I’ll get there when I get there.” Tom took a long drag. “I’m busy right now.”

“No sir, they sent me to grab you right now. It’s been half an hour already.”

Tom shrugged and went to the meeting room literally ten steps from his desk. Katie, some interns and the producers were chatting rather pleasantly about their daily lives when Tom came in. The mood soured and everyone went straight to business.

The lead producer, a demon by the name of Freed, took to reading the pre-news. He was a gangly tattoo covered man with the wifi symbol marked into his cheekbone. He was younger than Tom by seventy years but looked way more tired and wired. He flew through the papers for the headlines. “Alright folks let’s get through this so we can do something worthwhile,” he said. “We have a new #1 song from Froggy Style, awful awful piece of shit, but the man at the top wants us to sell it so we’re going to use this script to make it sound big. Okay?”

“Do we have to mention the song name?” Katie asked. “I’m not going to say ‘I Want You to Shove that Glock up my Asshole and call me Biggie’ on live television.”

“Fair enough, we’ll have someone make a graphic for it. I’m sure we have stock images for that.” An intern gave a thumbs up. They had it. “We also have a report from this morning about the Radio Demon taking over Channel 42 for some cooking show. So business as usual. Don’t give that fucker screen time you got me?”

The whole group nodded except for Tom, who just switched out his half burnt cigarette for another one. The smoke put a light haze over the room. The head producer started twitching.

“We also have live footage of two arsonists burning down one of Valentino’s Premier Crack Dens,” his eyes beaded in on Tom. “You gonna report on that Chico Man?”

“Eh, sure,” Tom said. “It oughta give me some good street cred for a while.” He laughed to himself while the producer just moved on. Soon after the whole afternoon’s news was set in stone in record and they had about an hour before the show started. Everyone was getting up to leave the room.

“Actually hold up,” the producer said. “Interns can go. We have another piece of business to discuss.” The interns did so and Tom and Katie were left surrounded by their superiors. “So, Tom. I see, uh, you have a new look going for you right now. Looking good on you.”

“Yeah I know right?” Tom said. “I can’t believe ratings have gone up the past couple of days. I like to think it’s my new hip vibes.”

“Tom,” Katie said, slouched over the table. “Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.”

“What? C’mon Katie you love it.”

“No no, sugar tits has a point,” Freed said. “Cut that shit out. You’re fucking with the network.”

“What?” Tom asked. “We’re getting more viewers. We’re beating other networks.”

“We own all of the networks, Tom. All of them. Your bullshit is pulling away from the reality shows and pornos that get us actual ad dollars. Start acting like yourself again so we can keep the focus stories that are actually infomercials.”

“Come on Freed, you’re a cool guy, you’ll-.”

“Tom, you’ve been here longer than any of us, so you should know this. Keep talking like this and I swear to Lucifer I’ll break you over this table like a bitch.”

Tom laughed. Fear had left his body for a while now. Nothing could keep him down. “Oh Freed, you’re-.”

One of the producers grabbed Tom by the back of the head and slammed his face first into the table. It tilted under the force of the impact and on the rebound another producer grabbed Tom by the shoulder and swung him out of his chair and into the wall behind them. Tom lurched forward, bleeding through his flame bandanna. He tried to say something but a fist busted right into his ribcage and almost impaled him. Vomit shot out from his mask like a squirt gun. “Wait, I’m sorry. I’ll-.”

Five guys surrounded him and it was chaos. The demons punched and kicked and snapped and sliced at him until every bit of him took a blow, a relentless torture session. His body emerged as a bloated black mess. The newsman could barely utter a sound from the sheer amount of pain.

They threw him onto the table where Freed pulled him up by the Mohawk. “Alright, how do ya feel Tom?” he asked. Tom could barely register a sound. “Oh thank God you’re not senile. What a relief. “Perry!”

A demoness popped in. “Yes boss?”

“Get Tom all patched up and presentable. I need him Hellevision Ready in an hour. Capiche?”

“Yes sir.” She picked up the broken body of Tom Trench and dragged him out of the room. There were fluids of all kinds streaking out onto the floor like a leaking trash bag.

Freed sat back down an eyed Katie. “Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. I need this week to be perfect. Vox is coming by next week and you know how he likes his entertainment.”

Katie didn’t give him much mind, just tapping away at her new Hellephone. She refused to watch the breaking. “Yeah I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks sugar, now about tonight.”

Six o’clock. The cameras were rolling and the anchors were going at it.

“Did you think Hell couldn’t get more depraved?” Tom asked, pounding his desk with full enthusiasm. “Well someone just came up with a bright new idea.”

“That’s right Tom,” said Katie. “A new fad is hitting Hell’s streets, light bulbs that you can smoke. A viral marketing campaign is in effect right where the drug’s creator has switched 20% of all street lights have been replaced with the new drug. Vandalism and hospitalizations are expect to be on the rise tonight.”

“Some people just aren’t the brightest bulbs am I right Katie?”

“Eat my dick Tom.”

Tom mumbled something too low to register.

Katie continued. “Our next story covers a sinister break in at one of our own Voxtech’s R&D departments last night, where some random demon managed to enter and vandalize critical works in progress.”

“If that new Hellephone gets delayed for this we order you to riot against this lady.” The screen pulled up to show a gray demon with long silver hair. “She is a menace to society and no longer allowed in this station. If you ever see this girl, clock her for me.”

“Fortunately we won’t have to. This cyclops failed to break anything vital and we can confirm that she has been properly dealt with by Voxtech’s security forces. A happy ending to this story.”

“We should also note that 666 news is a part of the Voxtech Conglomer-.” Katie kicked Tom in the shin. This created a chain reaction across his entire body. The carefully maintained and fragile structure holding Tom’s body together shook and cracked, leaving the man in a pain indescribable by most. He was pushed under the desk for good measure between his swears and longings for death.

“When we come back,” Katie said. “We’ll talk about the hit song that is sweeping Pentagram City. I won’t tell you the name but here’s an image. Stay tuned.”


	8. I'll Be Your Detonator

Somewhere on the other side of town, Cherri was out earning some real street cred by providing every kind of drug to the city, and by city she meant Angel and company. Porn Studios XXX ran on a 24 hour cycle. Shit needed filming and for a lot of producers the need for stimulants was great and mighty. Men and women lined up to get a cheap selection of mushrooms, motor oil, super glue, candy suppositories, you name it, all in a big sack held by the psycho anarchist. The studio had a counter set up just for her.

“Hurry up fuckers I’m tired of carrying this shit,” she said, grabbing money by the wad. “If you have to think about it then wait on the side.”

“Sorry, indecisive guy here,” said Angel. He managed to sneak behind her and start rummaging through her inventory like he owned the stuff. He pulled out a piece of glass. “The Hell is this?”

“A light bulb.”

“Is it...drugs?”

“Maybe?”

Angel considered his options and thought up the logistics of snorting mystery glass. He bought it. “This is a shit load of contraband babe. Where have you been going?”

“Oh I’ve been making rounds with one of the news boys down the street.” She emptied out the rest of her sack and took in the clamoring crowd. “Hit some good places up, showed him the ropes. Help me out up here.”

Angel took some of the cash and gave out the hard narcotics in the crowd’s general direction. The folks fanned out against their blockade as they made their hits. “New guy huh? Is he any good?”

“He’s good at drawing fire. I’ll say that.”

“Isn’t he that twinky looking loser Charlie set on fire a few weeks ago?”

“Hey, I don’t know what you do with your landlady.”

“Got a point there.” Angel snagged a bag of his own Angel Dust and spotted Cherri a twenty. The only thing better than cheap drugs is giving the drug money to a pal.

“You know,” Cherri said. “He is a big fan of yours. I may have offered him to meet you.”

“Really? I mean, I like fans and all but I don’t-. Okay I do take everyone but still.”

“I think he deserves it.” The counter emptied out and the long line of porn stars headed back to their jobs. A few blew some kisses back while more slid some fresh business cards as a kind of solicitation. Cherri’s options were beyond reason, and her coffers were filled. “So what do you think? Up for it?”

Angel laughed. “Sure. It sounds like you’ve taken a liking for this guy. Gonna do anything with him?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Sis, any cock breaks my lock. I’ll take him if you don’t.”

Cherri shook her head with a silly grin. “Hey, I like tough guys, and as weird as he is he’s a pretty cool dude. I like to think I trained him a bit but, you know.”

“You gave me a good teaching or two."

“Yeah,” Cherri nodded. “You gotta be a rough cunt to be in Hell. That’s what I like about guys like you two. Anyway, I’ll catch you around.”

As Cherri packed up to leave Angel waved her goodbye with a toodles. “Tell me how the sex is!”

Cherri kept that thought in her head while waiting at their usual meeting spot but for a moment it looked like Tom wasn’t showing. An hour slipped by in a flash and the night life was roaring up to its usual peak, a dark haze exaggerated by the lack of street lights. Frustration set in. She wanted to leave but she had something incredible planned that needed him to show. After all a two man job is twice as hard with one person. Something wasn’t right.

“Hello? Hello?” she said, trying to get a hold of him on the phone. “The fuck is taking him?” Cherri pulled out her personal guitar that she had stashed on the side of the street with her. It was pink as blush and the case contained with a remote bomb in case someone tried to snag it. She played some riffs and mumbled to herself. “ _Bombs, give me bombs, give me bombs, lemme’ throw ‘em in the face, of an ass, who deserves, a new_ _look_ _. Can’t show himself, to his wife, to his kids, to his friends, only me, only me, only me._ _You_ _think_ _that’s selfish of me? Fine, I want fun,_ _I like fun,_ _and I’ll take it from the poor, and the meek, and the old. I’m shortchanged but I’ll collect, what’s the point, if you can’t share with everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone?”_

Her eyes darted up and saw a tuft of neat blonde hair shifting between the throngs of people. It was Tom, but as he emerged Cherri could spot the change in his demeanor. He was sullen, small. He walked with incredible care and every bump against another demon was a shock to his system. He was back to his usual suit, but it was well pressed and his mask was clean and neat. She locked up her guitar again and raced over. “Yo what took you so long? Are you alright?”

Tom took a second to come up with an answer. There was a lot to say, plenty that he didn’t want to go through with but it had. His voice was low and shaking. “Cherri,” he said, tense and serious. The man gritted his nonexistent teeth. He had to tell the truth. Not the shit kicking part but his true feelings going in. There was a lot keeping him back, keeping him down. The man could feel himself crumbling. He took a deep breath.

“Sorry I’m late babe! I got in a big fight down at the station and got roughed up a bit so I had to get patched up. See?” He showed the amount of stitches and bandages underneath his coat, which disgusted Cherri so hard it went right around to being cool.

“Holy shit,” she said. “Did you kick their ass?”

“It was a draw. That damn producer of mine! I gave him a beating so bad you wouldn't believe. So, where are we going?”

“Somewhere special. It’ll be a bit more challenging than before. Are you up for it?”

Tom wanted to die. “Such a thought is insulting to the manliness that is Tom Trench. I’ll clean them out like it’s nothing. Lemme at ‘em!”


	9. The Night is Long. Walk on You Two

It was late at night and the Overlord of the Necrophiliac Gang couldn’t sleep for the life of him. For a man literally made of fire sporting a cow skull for a head he had a strange fixation on his eight hours and someone was keeping him up and pissed. A butler tended to his bedside.

“Mister Bucrane, sir,” said the butler. “I have sent more reinforcements to deal with the intruders. We should have the situation under control any minute now.”

“Finally,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “This noise has been going for two straight hours. Soon soon I get to sleep, a very deep, sleepy sleep.” He dozed off for a second. The Bucrane estate had cut out a huge chunk of Pentagram’s City’s land as a no-go zone to keep him as far away from noise and people as much as possible. The dead must lie, and he had a lot of ‘dead’ servants to maintain his perimeter. Anyone who dared to enter the dark forests and haunted graveyards of his estate would be consumed by skeleton ghouls within seconds of trespassing. The Overlord’s vast armies of monsters would keep him secure in his silence. Another explosion jostled him back awake.

“Hmm, yes, alright.” The butler turned off the Bluetooth piece in his ear. “Sir, they’ve reached the front door.”

“Am I going to have to get out of bed?”

“Would you like this handled now or later?”

The Overlord thought about it. “Fine, I’ll do it now.”

Downstairs out in the front lawn of the Gothic estate the two anarchists were in the fight for their lives. Their path through the perimeter was one filled with nothing but endless bullets and bombs, a lawn mowing operation that pushed them to their wits ends as they blew their way through the skeleton armies row by row, cluster by cluster. Tom had run through almost every magazine drum he’d ever owned in his life in a matter of hours. His body count had hit the day’s high score, a feat that would be envied by Hell’s mass murderers. He should’ve been proud.

But he hated it. He hated every word of assurance he gave to Cherri. His arms were jello, a noodly unconstructed mess. The sheer recoil from his Tommy Gun whipped his broken arms into mush, and every part of him spiraled into a dull numbness. He was feeling but acting. His memories played back in his old life, the last time he felt this way.

September 24th. Tom was running full sprint across a hectic patch of no man’s land toward the enemy. Artillery was pummeling the land ahead and in a few seconds they would cease, leaving him precious seconds before the bullets would come his way. He didn’t falter. By this point, forty days into the offensive, all sense of pain and fear had been emptied from his mind. No hope, no glory to be found, only the inevitable arrival of a painless death. His guitar wobbled helplessly on his back, un-played for weeks now. The only thing keeping him moving was the four guys behind him pushing him ahead.

“Get a move on Tom!” Sarge said, slamming his shoulder. “Get in there and murder ‘em!”

“Sir yes sir!” Tom replied, almost by instinct and almost sarcastic. He jumped, went airborne and with bayonet fixed to his rifle skewered a German face first on the way down. When the enemy soldiers looked up to see what just happened they saw a dark creature, a willowy man with matted hair and eyes that hadn’t seen sleep in days. Tom gunned them down with his revolver on reflex.

“Tom behind you!” Colins yelled from the top, but a bullet caught him through the mouth and sent him spinning. Tom turned to face them but felt a few stray shots broke through his guitar and into his side. The quick spin saved his life but he was bleeding but nonetheless he lunged at them full force like a savage dog. Two revolver shots went right through the hearts of two while the third took the end of his Lee Enfield and was impaled up into the air, his blood bursting onto the American man. The rest of his squad arrived to provide backup and drag Colins back in the Trench. Jimms tried to calm Tom down but the man was practically hallucinating. There was only one thing on his mind. Sarge had to shake him back to reality.

“Tom, Tom! Pay attention mate, we got ourselves a tasty demon here.” Cherri snapped him back to actual reality. Tom looked down. He had been poking at bones for the past thirty seconds.

“Oh sorry,” Tom apologized. “Had something on my mind. Where were we again?”

“Ruining my night,” said the Lord Bucrane. The two were in the shadow of this massive flaming beast and the realization of that made Tom wish to return to his hallucinations. “Can I help you two?”

“You can hand over that ass of yours so we can kick the shit out of it!” Cherri said. “So come on, show us what you got.”

Bucrane, again an Overlord of Hell, gave them a blank stare. “You two? Just ordinary demons?”

“Yeah we’re pretty ordinary, nothing too threatening.” Tom said, shrinking back until Cherri gave him a betrayed look. “T-That’s what we want you to think! We’re the new head honchos this side of the city so get ready for a whoop assin’!”

“Oh, right.” Bucrane snapped his fingers “I remember you two now, a pair of small time vandals. What a relief. I’m not gonna get concerned over some news flunkie and a teenager who breaks stuff to cope with her emotional damage. Now get off my lawn before I call up security.”

“Bro, we just murdered the security,” Cherri boasted. “It’s just you now so guess what? It’s now your turn to get a taste of what real damage is.”

“Actually my guys are skeletons so they come back quick.” Bucrane snapped his fingers and the five hundred skeletons popped right back up with all their bones back in place. The army surrounded the two with the same dull expression as always. “Convenient right?”

“O-Oh, okay, so,” Cherri said, trying to find her words but she couldn’t get them out. “So what if you have all your guys back? As long as we kick your ass it won’t matter-.” Bucrane uppercutted Tom out of the perimeter. “Because...I’m the toughest, baddest bitch you’ll...you’ll ever-.”

And then he propelled her out of the land at remarkable speed. As she disappeared over the tree line the scene went back to quiet and serene, as it should be. Bucrane faced his army. “Alright what are you lot looking at? Get back to work,” He said. “Finally time for some fucking sleep.”

Tom did his best to comfort Cherri on one of the outer mausoleums at the front but she wasn’t having it. She had reached a new level of emotion Tom hadn’t seen yet, and that emotion was peak grump.

“Man fuck that asshole,” she said to herself. “Thinking he can just kick us out like that.”

“Yeah yeah, but, well, he did,” Tom said. “Come on, let’s get wasted. That’ll make things better.”

She was ready to pull out hair. “I just want to take that stupid head of his and smash it, crash it, and grr, rggh, shit! That’s it!” She stood back up. “I’m going back there and taking that bastard’s skull up right now!”

“Wait stop!” He grabbed her by the stomach and they both yelped. She wasn’t going to admit it but the punt to end all punts had did a number on her insides. It was a wonder that she was still alive with all of the internal bleeding, but that’s what demons were all about. Of course Tom was dead already, what was left of him was a ghost manifesting the skin puppet that was his flesh. At this point the pain was nothing, but still. “Stop it Cherri, we’re done for the day.”

“No we’re not. I’m still up and ready to go. I won’t let him make a fool out of me.”

“But you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“So? I’ll just come back together anyway. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re killing yourself over nothing! What are you going to even do with all this land?”

“I don’t know! I just need to let it out somewhere.” She started to calm down, or at least surrender to her caved in stomach. She sat back down with a sigh. “I don’t like losing Tom. Makes me self conscious.”

“Right.” Tom took this as a chance to relax. The two sat there for a bit in silence, slowly ruminating over their defeat, but really it was a combo breaker, a pause on their mayhem. He was sure they’d be back in action soon. Then again, there was a counter argument to be made through his body, his finances, his career, even Cherri had points against this. He had to ask the question. “Do you hate it here?”

“What?” Cherri asked. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I’ve always been saying it. Remember the song?”

“I...get blurry memories sometimes.” She chuckled to herself but it wasn’t getting any funnier. She let out a deep sigh. “But yeah, I do. I just, I dunno, expected more out of my life, and I sure as Hell wanted more out of Hell. This, this life, it’s the best I can do.”

Tom leaned in. “You ever hear what Heaven’s like?”

“Is it sunshine and rainbows and puppies?”

“No, not like that. I’ve heard from some higher ups that it’s like an endless pyramid that God stands at the top of, and you have to work to take another step up.”

“That sounds like a shitty afterlife.”

“It’s all the rage up there apparently.”

“Well, maybe we do deserve to be down here.”

“At least we’re in this together.” Tom reeled back as soon as he said it. All of the violence and carnage had sated his sexual desires for a whole week but since they met this evening she had been giving him a certain look. That look was happening right now. Below them their two guitar cases shifted and fell over each other.

“You said you wanted to grab a drink right?” Cherri asked. “Need to disinfect my stomach.”

“Well I need to numb this suffering so..."

Ten drinks later and the two had hit the zenith of shitfaced. They forgot all about their one bad night and set themselves up a good night now and a bad morning later. When they burst out of the bar they were wailing on their guitars, strumming like assholes and jamming the necks up peoples assholes. They had a guy in their cross hairs and surrounded him.

“ _Sir can you afford another_ _thimble?”_ Tom sang. “ _Cause a shot full with that will fuck up your hat!”_

“ _Hey you, you, you,”_ Cherri continued. “ _You have...nice pinstripes.”_

The demon walked faster and outpaced them through his ability to walk straight. This gave them a good enough laugh to keep playing while they headed back toward familiar territory, tripping and falling over each other all the while.

“Cherri, I can’t think straight. Tell me, tell me Cherri. Do you hate me?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“I think, it’s my brain saying something to me. What time is it?”

Cherri threatened a woman at bomb point. “What time is it!?”

“It’s 3AM you crazy bitch!” She responded, and both were good with the answer.

“I’m not sure, but I think I live close by,” Tom said. “I should probably head home.”

“Mind if I crash over at your place?”

“Um, er, well.” Tom took a step back to sobriety. The answer was an enthusiastic yes but the apartment had its own counter arguments. The council of Toms took counsel over once again and all three were on their ass when it came to this. Horny Tom tried to make his point but couldn’t stop vomiting and Newsman Tom was worried about everything else in his life to notice. Sad Tom pulled up Horny Tom and asked the question of if it mattered? Nothing Tom did really mattered so who cared? The room was deadlocked. “I don’t know, I haven’t cleaned it this week.”

“Trust me, you’ll never wanna stay at my place. Please?” She gave him the eye again. Horny Tom broke from his stupor and took action.

“Alright sure. I’ll take the couch tonight. Don’t worry about a thing babe.”

It would take them half an hour but eventually they made it up the flight of stairs that led to Tom’s apartment. Cherri, as drunk as she was, was watching carefully to see who she had been really partnering with. The second she entered she got an eyeful of the truth. It was a mess, far beyond what normal mess was, even by Hell’s standards. Nothing was clean, the couch, barely habitable. Bandages and alcohol was strewn everywhere and the kitchen had no food in it. It was the den of someone who’s given up on this world. It was incredibly familiar and strangely comforting.

“So yeah, it’s a bit messy,” Tom said. His addled mind assembled a quick chore list. “Let me clean it up for a bit before we settle down.”

“Okay.” The two put their guitars together on a nearby wall. Cherri stayed in the kitchen and watched while Tom went to nest making, shoveling away the blemishes he kept around himself and tossing them out. It did gross her out a little, but he cleaned up fast and underneath the layers of garbage the place wasn’t so bad. The dishes weren’t great though. “Do you really have nothing but bowls and bottles in this place?”

“You’ve seen me drink,” Tom replied. “I don’t have teeth so I can’t chew food.”

“Really? I thought you were just a health nut or something. Nice blender by the way.” It was the most expensive thing in the house.

“Really? After a whole week of us partying every night you haven’t notice?”

“Fine I didn’t notice...why don’t you show me?”

“Sure, one second.” He threw out two giant bags of garbage out the window and onto the streets. “Okay, see? Just a hole.”

She put a hand on his shoulder while she inspected Tom’s mask. He popped off the filter and showed his feeding tube. “Wow,” Cherri said. “So this really is you mouth huh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat isn’t it?” Tom started to sweat.

“Yeah it’s pretty neat.” She held his chin to inspect it further.

“Pretty neat.” Tom was about to panic.

“Yep, neat.” She nodded.

“Yep.” His heart was beating out of his chest.

The two stared at each other for a long time, neither sure of what to do next, but alcohol was still in their systems, and Cherri was the first to give in. She kissed him and the two fell silent.

“...Did I do it right?” she asked, her face a low crimson.

“I don’t know.” Tom was about to lose it. “Maybe try it again?”

She kissed him again and they looked at each other. They kissed again and they were getting more confident. They kissed again and their hands came together. They kissed again and the room started to spin.


	10. The Big Climax (get it?)

Touchdown! Score one! Victory is nigh! The team of Inner Toms were in tears at their desks as their master’s situation went from hot to passionate. Sad Tom collapsed over his desk in panicked sobs of joy. “At long last!” he sobbed. “We finally did it. We can live again!”

“I’m sure Katie’s going to have a kick out of this story,” said Newsman Tom. “If there’s a God out there, thank you for letting us find true love. How do you feel Horny Tom? Tom?”

Horny Tom took a second to respond. He stood at the front of the control center, arms arched over the brain’s vital control systems. His breath was heavy, his body was convulsing and his hands were twitching with startling anger. He took a hold of two levers and looked out onto the main view port.

“This is no time to celebrate boys!” he said, pulling the levers back. “I will never be made a fool of again in this hellscape. Tonight, I will once again show everyone my true power!”

Outside of Tom’s head all sense of direction and time had left the room. The only feelings left were sound, taste and touch, the feelings of ones hands and one’s (Cherri’s) lips. Cherri got the better of him in footwork and slammed him into a wall, causing Tom to jolt back. He let out a yelp. “Ow, Christ my back!” he grunted. “I mean, it’s not that bad.”

Cherri giggled. “Hey, I get it old man. Don’t try to act so tough. I’ll be good to you tonight.” Her fingers crawled up his body with a soft glide, feeling her way up to his tie and with a gentle nudge and pull she slipped it off. The coat were next. “Heheh, it’s funny, when you showed me your scars earlier.”

“Really? What do you mean- I mean, what did you think? Badass right?”

“No.” She got his coat off and was opening him up button by button. “The only thing I could think was ‘wow, that funky mask of yours only goes down to your neck.’”

Tom pulled off his gloves behind Cherri to reveal his normal hands. They were so close to his normal body but off color just enough to frighten him. When the shirt came off he looked pale and ghost like, as if there was no blood in his system aside from the bruised spots. It had bugged him for the longest time. So close to human and yet not.

“But then again,” Tom said aloud. “I’m not the palest person in this room.” His hands went in and grabbed a hold of everything he could and with a little jostling and a push Cherri was pushed back cleanly separated from her top. Her hair giving top a soft slap on the way out. “You can treat me gentle,” Tom said. “But I think I know how you wanna be treated baby.”

Cherri regained her balance to find herself freed and bouncy. The inner Toms had a celebration in his head. 10/10 rack, would do again. She couldn’t help but grin. “Oh yeah, then show me what you got.”

Tom pushed himself off the wall toward her and they met face to face. Horny Tom weighed his options from inside the control room twiddling his thumbs. There were so many options to take and he considered himself an intellectual.

Cherri kissed him again. “It’s a real shame that mouth of yours doesn’t have a tongue. I’d know where I’d like to put it.”

Horny Tom slammed his panel. “You making fun of me!? I’ll give you what you want!”

Tom’s hand shot down her skirt and in a sudden reversal Cherri’s composure broke. The fingers found their mark. A wave of sensation hit the girl like a freight train and for a brief second she let out a light, almost innocent squeak. The two stared at each other, Cherri’s mouth agape and quivering. He was almost shocked, but he took the lead and pulled her in. His hands gave him the advantage, playing her like her own bass guitar.

“How’s that feel?” Tom asked, questioning if he was doing it right. “It does feel good right?”

“Yeah,” Cherri breathed out, clinging onto his arm. “Keep going right here.” She guided his fingers in right where she wanted them. The results were apparent. She quivered in his hand. Her legs buckled under the weight of the pleasure. Tom kissed her again to keep her busy. He had to take every advantage he could to please her. Anything could go wrong at any second so an early climax for her would keep his standing good. He upped his pace.

“You getting close?” Tom asked.

“I’m getting there. Here, let me help that,” she laughed. Her rogue hand crawled all the way up to his trousers where a monster was trying to get out. One loosened belt and button later and it flopped out in all its glory She licked her fingers. “Look at you mate. You all pent up.” She returned the favor and the two were in a hand war. Panic set in.

“Uh oh, wait,” Tom said, squirming in place. “How do you know how to stroke it like that?”

“You like it? I hang out with people like Angel Dust a lot so I’ve learned some fun tricks.”

She wasn’t lying. All of Tom’s pent up desires were on a rapid rise under the strength of her skill. The mutual relationship Cherri was feeling in this moment became a race against time. Both were losing focus in their actions, drifting away in their own ocean of sensation, but Tom was feeling it way worse.

The team of Toms manned the helms and set out emergency measures. The order was given: fortify. He locked his body down and gave everything he had to Cherri. Another finger was called into support, the introduction of which was welcome but also surprising to her nerve system. She lurched forward and slam her head into Tom’s chest by accident. The sheer pain of his cracked ribs brought him back down as the pleasure drained out of him. What a relief, Tom thought. He bought some time.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Let me help you get back up.” The other hand joined the fight and in the shift of her hips Tom found himself slipping out of her. The one man race was in full swing. Inside Horny Tom was cursing himself as all of the systems went haywire, conduits exploded, smoke emitted from the console. He banged on the control panel and prayed for the love of God make it stop.

“Slow down Cherri, please.” Tom asked. “T-T-This is too much.”

“What are you afraid of a little edging? I thought-.” She thought wrong, as shown when Tom climaxed and a load shot Cherri right in the eye. Blinded and feeble, she couldn’t escape the torrent that she had unleashed upon herself as Tom was drained of every drop in his system. She had to rush to the sink to get the shit out of her eyes.

“Y-Yeah, see?” Tom said. “I told you, uh, yeah. You were really good and-.” Tom backed into the couch and curled up. He was on the verge of bursting into tears, but he had a little dignity left in him to hold back. His power was gone. Reality crashed back onto him and he was back to his original self, laid bare in front of the woman he admired.

Cherri pulled herself out of the sink and blinked. It looked like she cleaned up nice, but she paused before turning around. She could hear him holding back the shame. She weighed her options for a second but she already knew the answer. It was the selfish option.

“Wow, you sure know how to let off a load,” she said, walking back up to him as if she didn’t notice his break down. She got on her knees. “Here, let me clean you up.”

In one gulp she ate his whole member and with a rhythmic spiraling motion gave back life to the dead creature. She wished she invented this technique. She taught a lot of essential skills to Angel in his line of work but this was something she received in return. The fruits of a good friendship, lessons that strove for greatness. Her tutelage was what made Angel go from a disgraced mobster to a cocky porn star, and in return his new station taught her to powers of a woman, the strength of mind and body, and way too much about drugs to care about. She hoped that Tom would learn more from her tonight.

“Oh, wow,” Tom said, breaking from his stupor with rock hard enthusiasm. “I can’t believe it.”

“Mmm hmm,” she mumbled back, giving a second before taking his dick out of her mouth. “I told you I’d treat you good.”

“Thanks, I mean, I’m sure you want something in return.”

She toyed with him in her hands. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s go somewhere comfortable.”

The two walked over to the bed and got the rest of the way undressed. They inspected each other like animals, feeling, touching, understanding every part of each other. For all of the black and purple hidden underneath Tom’s skin Cherri found him not lacking, a solid limber piece of demon biology that wasn’t too large nor too small. On the other side, Tom was just counting his blessings that he wasn’t with Katie again. The chalk white skin was eerily similar but was peppered with so many freckles it broke the illusion. He didn’t have to bear under that demonness anymore, not with this lovely creature before him.

That said, it had been so long without a person that wasn’t Katie that he didn’t know how to advance further. It was him that got used not her, and here this girl was beckoning him, gently guiding him to take the lead. Cherri Bomb wanted a man, not what he had learned.

“Come on,” she whispered. “What are you waiting for?”

“Sorry, uh, let’s see.” He asked himself, what would Katie do in a situation like this? He pushed her onto the bed and followed, crawling over her to assert his dominance. “Was that alright?”

“Uh, yeah, but you’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

Her legs sprung out and pulled in his hips. The two were body to body, and she took him hand to hand. “Alright, now you do the rest.”

“Alright, here goes.” It took him a second to find the angle but once he did he tried to push in. She squeaked under the penetration. Apparently ramming it in wasn’t an option, but after some time and tinkering the two were connected. The two held each other and kissed.

“So, what do you think?” Cherri asked. “How does it feel?”

“It feels like...pussy,” Tom said. “I’ve had sex before you know.”

“You have?”

“Yeah of course I have! I mean this is our first time and hey, that’s important, but I’m not a chump.”

“Could’ve fooled me…I was just joking! It feels good being like this.”

Tom kissed her. “Thanks Cherri. This week has meant a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

“Slow down mate, you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

She squeezed him with her legs, shooting pain into his systems. “You’re supposed to be fucking me!”

The next hour flew by in an instant as the two went at each other, exploring every part of their bodies and every angle they could twist their bodies into. Cherri did everything she could to get Tom to lead, to get that cocky attitude up to the forefront of his persona. His flesh was weak, but his spirit was willing, and an old veteran inside him found his way out. Sexual escapades from a century ago reminded him of a few techniques and with some latent muscle memory Cherri was able to find a taste of what she was looking for.

“Yeah, keep it right there,” she gasped. “I’m about to cum.”

“Okay good,” Tom said to himself. “I’m nowhere close right now.”

“Fuck me harder!”

“Still not there.”

“Harder daddy!”

“WHY DOES THAT WORK FOR ME!?”

It was five in the morning and the two were seconds away from passing out. Cherri put on enough clothes to feel comfortable before hopping under the sheets with Tom, where pulled her in and held her from behind. The feeling of holding someone like this was a feature long lost to him. It felt good to have it back.

“So, Cherri,” Tom said. “Was it good for you?”

“It was alright,” she replied. “But I’m sure you’re just getting back into the groove of things.”

This caught Tom off guard. A bunch of questions sprung into his head that raise his heartbeat. Cherri could feel it. “I...haven’t been really honest with myself recently. I’m sure you noticed.”

She laughed. “I noticed you trying to act all big and tough. I understand. The point is that you’re brave, and that’s what’s important. I like that in a man.”

“Oh, I’m not that brave. That fight I had with my boss? I didn’t really fight back. I was outnumbered, as you’d expect.”

“Mmhmm, right.”

“My co-worker, sexually assaults me sometimes. She takes advantage of me constantly. I don’t think she’s ever cared about me.”

“Bummer bro.”

“The worst thing about it is, I’ve let it happen. I’ve let myself stay alone like this forever. All my old friends, everyone I’ve had a loving relationship with, they’re gone and they’re never coming back.”

“I remember that song you sang. It’s some tough shit but I know you can get through it.” Cherri tried to keep the mood upbeat but could feel the rising tension in the air. She couldn’t turn around but the emotions were there.

A pair of tears welled up in Tom’s eyes. “I love you Cherri,” he said. “I’ve been so alone for so long. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I haven’t met you. Thank you.”

Cherri lied there quietly, letting Tom show his true self, what he’s been keeping down all this time, how deep the wounds truly went. She let her body be caressed by this nice sensitive man, but the realization dawning on her was frightening.


	11. The Falling Action (Get it again? :'( )

Fog filled the air on October 5th as the American forces were bogged down by a new and desperate counterattack. The situation had grown dire. Lines of reestablished artillery had halted their advance and the Americans attempt at a charge had been stymied by waves of men that crashed into the attackers like a tidal wave. Tom’s squad was ordered to hold their newly established line against the next counterattack before going over themselves.

A Major was surveying the trenches and came across their squad. “Look sharp all of you!” he bellowed. “You don’t look any different from those corpses over there! Show some spirit! We’re gonna win this war.”

Most of what he said was true. Chances were they were going to win and the five of them did look a lot like shambling corpses, but there was no way in hell their spirits were going up. Serge scratched his head. At this point he was pretty sure someone misplaced a file somewhere, made a clerical error in their paperwork. Their squad should’ve been rotated out weeks ago. Colins and Tom were bandaged and stitched up but were still on the front lines. Everyone else was either scarred or just shell shocked from the combat. It was starting to become apparent they were being wrung out for all they had. At the least, a document made months later would prove the clerical error listing them as a “regimental band.”

“The fuck you doing Rich?” asked Jimms. His squadmate was taking a knife to the wood part of his rifle. “You’re gonna break it.”

“I’m not gonna break it,” he replied. “I’m counting my kill tally for when we leave.”

Jimms counted up the marks. “You’ve only killed that many?”

“I’m counting by tens.”

Tom laughed. “I stopped counting long ago.” He stared at his rifle. It was more marks than wood. “Might as well stop counting. It’s not good for you.”

“Fuck off Tom.”

“Fuck you Dick.”

“Cut the crap the both of you,” Serge said. “I’m going to try again tonight to get us out of this godforsaken front line. Maybe get some R&R in the meantime.”

“Maybe I’ll get some money to get a new guitar.”

“That’s your fault Tom. If you want another one why don’t you ask the Germans for one?”

Tom didn’t give him two seconds before he was already climbing over no mans land and walking out in plain sight. Colins and Jimms grabbed him by the feet.

“You idiot! Do you want to get shot out there?” Jimms yelled, but Tom wasn’t moving. He was transfixed on his immediate surroundings and listening over the bustle around him, he noticed something peculiar.

“Guys, did they do an artillery strike recently?”

“Not in a few hours, why?”

“Why are there mustard gas canisters all around us?”

The boys went wide eyed. Through the heavy machinations of was the light hissing of mustard gas could be heard and the canisters contents were wafting on top of the ground and spilling over into the American trench line. The bastards. They booby trapped their own trenches to cook off on a timer. Tom tried to call out to the whole trench line but a bullet from the other side hit him in the center and sent him careening into the trench line. He could smell the gas in the dirt.

“Tom!” Serge said, bolting into action. He could smell it too. “Gas masks on! We have a gas attack! Hurry!” Everyone within fifty feet of him scrambled under the threat and searched for their masks but they were far too late. The colorless gas swept over and slowly began to debilitate the entrenched men, causing them to cough, vomit and tear up at the stench of the irritant. Serge rushed over to Tom to put his mask on for him but he was in bad shape, bleeding out and drenched in mud. “Goddamn it Tom put it on!”

“I’m trying. I’m trying,” Tom kept trying to put his mask on but the odor was too much. He kept vomiting in his own mask, spewing blood while he was at it. The bullet had pierce one of his lungs and he was drowning in his own blood.

“Serge!” Rich yelled. “They’re firing on us!” Seconds later the trench was drenched in mortar and heavy ordinance fire, their positions planned out in advance. A well placed shot went right into the line a few yards from them and blew away a fellow squad. The lines behind them less affected by the gas received even more punishment from the pounding guns. An entire section of the line was pinned. Then, they could hear the screams of hundreds if not thousands of enemy soldiers jumping over the trenches and charging into no mans land. Colins and Jimms attempted to fire back but were forced back down due to incoming fire.

Tom’s Sergeant did everything he could to keep Tom awake. “C’mon buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Get up. We have killing to do.”

Tom couldn’t stop giggling. “Is this it?” he asked. “Is this all that we’ve been leading up to?” He coughed up blood. “What a shame. Makes me wanna play a song on the world’s smallest guitar.”

“Shut your lily livered ass Tom. You’ll be alright. Everything will be-.”

Everything went black for a second and then, wind. A warm gust carried Tom across a black world that slowly turned red. It took him a second to realize he was falling and when his eyes cleared up he realized how high he was. It was almost space levels. He presumed that he fell out of a plane or something because it looked like he was falling over a large capital city. Tom sighed. He probably survived the gas attack and was put on a plane out but now he was going to die again? The man just wanted his death to come at this point. He’d rather have that than be forced to live through such carnage again, and soon enough he got his wish when he hit the city pavement.

But then an hour later he was alive again, put together in one piece and lying on a hard cobblestone road. “The fuck is going on?” he asked himself. The man pulled himself up and found himself in the city center of a very Victorian city with horse and carriages, fancy turn of the century clothing and monsters of every variety walking the streets. It took Tom a minute to question if he was in England or not.

“Tom, is that you!?” someone yelled behind him. When he turned around Tom let out an audible screech as a horned goat demon rushed his way up to him. “No no no it’s me Colins! Something happened to us to make us look weird.”

“Says you,” said Richards, now a three headed snake. “How come Tom and Serge get to look somewhat normal?”

“That’s because we’re good deplorable bastards,” Serge said, sporting his own gas mask, offering to help Tom up. “I think we got hit by one of those artillery shells.”

Tom took his hand. “So does that mean we’re Hell?”

“Looks like it sonny.” Their major walked in with an entourage behind him. Most of them still had their uniforms on but it was easy to say that most of them didn’t fit. The men had changed into every shape and size imaginable, some animalistic, some completely alien. One demon stood with the major with a completely different getup, one very regal in design. “It seems that fighting and killing on this scale seems to have sent a good chunk of us down here.”

“Yeah, we can’t find Jimms around here at all,” said Colins. “And I know he died. Lucky bastard.”

“Lucky indeed. Fortunately for us Mr., uh, Eligos? Right. He’s offering jobs for folk like us.”

“Yes,” the lord gave a bow. “Big wars like the one in your world makes for good recruiting spree and security is very important in Hell, so please join my glorious syndicate. I assure you it’ll make Hell much more bearable.”

The four soldiers scratched their heads. There was a lot to contemplate. After all dying meant that there was a lot of unfinished business and upset family members up top, but after months upon months of true wartime hell, living in Hell as a civvie felt oddly rewarding. It was time to relax for a bit.

“So what do you say boys?” Serge asked. “You wanna kick back for a little while?”

Tom sighed. “Probably better than figuring out this place for myself.”

They all shook hands and agreed. “For now, let’s stick together. War was rough upstairs but I’m sure if we died together we could stay that way here.”

Tom smiled, not fully realizing that he didn’t have a mouth anymore, but for the moment the suffering was gone, the violence was gone. He could become his own man again, find his passion again and avoid that horrible slog all over again, and he’d do it with the friends that got him through this far. Hell wasn’t going to be so bad.

Then his alarm clock went off. Tom woke up at his usual time and hopped out of bed. The dream he just had was wonderful, almost enough to make him call up Serge again to see what was up. Then he remembered that he was dead, exterminated thirty years ago. Richard and Colins fifty years ago.

The day outside his window looked pretty cloudy and on the verge of rain. It wasn’t until he was halfway through brewing a cup of pre-ground roach coffee that he was alone his apartment. Cherri wasn’t in his bed, her clothes were gone and his guitar case was slumped over on the wall by itself. Tom was truly alone. He spotted a piece of paper on the coffee table and picked it up.

_Hey Bro,_

_I had a fun time last night, but I have to keep moving on. You keep working on yourself to stay awesome._

_Until another time._

_\- Cherri_

Tom stared at the page for a long time and while he did, the rain began to pour.

The morning was going great for Katie Killjoy. Freed gave her a good time last night with some fancy artisan toilet wine and she had a chance to meet with members of the Porn Actors Guild who were more than happy to share some drinks with her. In due time she might become a director herself. The possibilities for her were endless. Either way though with a slap on the ass Katie was let loose to torment the interns and check out the morning crew doing their show.

She watched the set from a distance while Pixie Supreme Slyph Marlow came up to her and landed on her shoulder. “Morning Katie,” she said.

“Morning Slyph. How was yesterday for you?”

“Some lady tried to make a pass on me last night. Wanted me to be inside her or something.”

“Gross.”

“I know right? I don’t know why people want me to be inside them. I want it to be the opposite if you know what I mean. Oh, there was something that I wanted to say. What was it again? I can’t put my finger on it.”

“If it’s easy to forget then it’s not important enough to remember.”

“No it’s important. Fuck, I’m hungover, let’s see...”

Meanwhile the morning new went live with anchors Saber and Klondike commenting about the slow dribble coming in that day. “Since our interview with Coco di Jambodiya is delayed until next week,” said Saber. “We’re going to be playing a collection of raw footage from the Hellternet showing people dying horribly.”

Klondike pulled down his Artic hood. “I believe this is what the youth call it, dark muh-mees.” Something came in on their earpiece and the shoddy video compilation cut off the screen. “Hold up hooligans. The producers have given the green light. We do have interesting news for this morning.”

“Is it the economy?”

“Nope.”

“A decree from Lucifer?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Someone we know preciously has been horribly maimed?”

“Nope, but we’ll see if that last half happens because Tom Trench is giving us a show ladies and gentleman. Marx?”

Outside the studio a depressed looking gentleman came on the screen with an umbrella taking most of the view. “Hello there, this is Marx. Uh, Tom is on top of the 666 News building and it looks like he’s gonna jump.”

“Can you move the umbrella?”

“I don’t wanna get wet.”

“And I don’t wanna shove a harpoon up your ass but hey, we have priorities.”

The man relented and presented Tom very very high up, at least sixty six stories up teetering on the edge of a roof. “Yeah, we don’t know why he’s up there but it doesn’t look like he’s happy.”

“Will he jump?” Saber asked.

“Hopefully.”

“That’s all we can do. We’ll keep you updated as the morning continues. Bets are in effect over on our website. If he does a flip while doing it you have the chance to win triple.”

Katie had already placed her bets in before the story was over. She couldn’t help but be amused. “I guess that slut he’s been hanging out with finally dumped his ass.”

“Hasn’t it only been a week?” Slyph asked.

“I guess so. It’s been so fucking busy lately I haven’t noticed.”

“That’s so pathetic and so like him.”

“Well if he goes with it I’ll have a couple months to have the show for myself. Maybe I’ll get a hot sexy replacement to have around for a while.”

Slyph finished tapping on her laughably small phone. “I just placed my bet as well. Here’s to him jumping. I hope he makes a nice squish when he hits the bottom.”

Katie let out a big laugh. “Yeah, yeah...cheers to that.”

It was too much. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Physically, mentally, spiritually, Tom Trench was a tired man. His week had come to and end and he was left worse off than when he had started, nothing gained, nothing maintained, losses everywhere.

He looked down at the people gathering with their black umbrellas. He’d reported on incidents like this before. It wasn’t uncommon to have suicides like this go off. Shit, Hell was chock full of suicidal fools like him, but it was always entertaining enough to get a kick out of it. After all they weren’t going to die again. The suffering would be loud and entertaining but after a few months that was it. Being out of a job for a few months was going to be its own nightmare, but the drinks and ammo already did him in in the first place.

“C’mon Tom, you can do it,” he talked to himself. “You’re an old man. Old people are great at dying.” He peered into the crowd, searching for someone, anyone he knew. In a time like this, only those closest to him would be able to hold him back. “No, no no, I don’t any of these people. Wait, there’s Marx! Eh, he’s a dick. What am I saying? You know why you’re up here Tom.”

His view widened to the entire intersection, the whole street, all on a search for a tuft of pink rocker hair. That’s all he really wanted. He tried calling Cherri multiple times and left several desperate and disturbing text messages but none of them bit. He probably ruined what little relationship they had left. He cursed himself. There was nothing more he wanted than to keep lying, to keep being part of that destructive lifestyle but it was too much for him. He wouldn’t be able to cut it. He only knew how to take orders from other people. A follower and not a leader. He was a coward, sneaky and a wimp. He gazed across the people again, then the area behind him. The roof was empty. No one was coming up the stairs.

“Tom, you’ve been working too hard lately,” he said to himself. “Why don’t you take a break for a little while. Give yourself some time to think for a bit.”

One more look. Somewhere out there, Cherri was with a friend of hers in a morning coffee place, talking the day over. They had playful banter talking over their week when the friend noticed something peculiar outside and told her.

“Cherri, if you’re out there, I’m sorry. I’m not really meant for anyone. I’m not cut out to live in Hell.”

Tom took a step forward and let the weight of his gravity shift and in the split second after he felt the drop he instantly regretted it, letting out a brief yelp. Why did he decide to put more suffering upon himself? Why keep the spiral going? There had to be a point where he had to step out for good, not distract himself with mindless tasks. He realized how much control he had over his life because he was exercising it at that very moment. A real shame he’d have to start over in a few months.

A hand reached out and grabbed him by the arm, stopping his fall.

Tom gasped. “Cherri!?”

“What?” asked Katie. She was dangling the poor bastard over the edge like a trash bag. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I, well. It seemed appropriate at the time and-.”

“Did it?” That was a good question and there was no answer. She shook her head and dragged him back onto stable grounds. She then kept dragging him. “Come on, we have a briefing for this morning.”

“Wait, hold on.” Tom struggled to break free from her grasp but was too weak to. “Why? Why are you doing this to me? I thought you’d prefer if I jumped. Maybe get you a sexy new co-host.”

“It’s not because of you Tom,” Katie stopped. It was obvious she didn’t know the words to what she wanted to say so she searched for the best way to say it. “I just, I just don’t like people falling off of buildings. It’s not fun to me, alright?”

Despite everything between them, Tom did know a lot about Katie. “Right, should’ve been obvious.”

Katie considered letting him go but her conscious wouldn’t let her do it, so Tom was dragged back downstairs and back to business as usual.

Somewhere on the other side of town, Cherri and her friend spotted a cool dog outside.


	12. Flowers for the One Who Needs It

A couple weeks passed and everything was quiet and back to normal.

As far as Tom was concerned, it was as if his little stunt never happened. Sure, people laughed in his face about it, but he would’ve gotten the same treatment for any other reason so it didn’t really matter. That hierarchy was never going to change. If anyone wanted even a sliver of power in this industry they knew who’s heads they had to step on and Tom was one of them. There was nothing to be said about it.

That said though, there were some minor changes, a slight shift in some of the staff conscious. It was rare and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast, but as Tom went about his daily slog people there were small moments, insignificant instances of kindness. For some people, seeing Tom like that put some humanity back in them. It was mainly the interns, the ones at the bottom rung. A few of the maintenance guys greeted him on the way in now and that was nice. However, what surprised him the most were the newscasters on his level. He wasn’t sure if he noticed them being nice before. They might’ve always done it for all he knew, but that wasn’t likely. One thing was for sure though. It was pity driving them. It was something else.

“Hey Tom,” Saber asked as she got off the morning newscast. “I’m gonna be out of town on Wednesday. Cover me for that morning.”

“What? Yeah, sure,” Tom said. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Thanks,” she patted him on the shoulder and walked off. “I owe you one.” Tom double took. He could feel it, that small hint of acknowledgment. In a way, everyone had a little Tom Trench in them here. Maybe his desperate action hit a little too close to home.

Later that day he had his performance evaluation with his boss and the usual TV reality world came back into focus. He kept Tom in a chair ten feet from the desk with two guards to his side. Freed took out a long list and went down the lines of every accusation and insult he could come up with to express his disapproval of the old man.

“You’ve caused several thousand dollars in liability damages,” he started with furious anger. “You haven’t improved for shit in the past fifty years and your attitude had been an annoyance to the staff for decades,” he said at the fifteen minute mark. “You wear the same suit to work every day, I hate your haircut, and the way you breathe pisses me off,” he droned thirty minutes in. By forty five minutes he was losing his voice from the sheer length. He was just grunting off the bottom of the list.

“Uh, do you need a glass of water?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, right,” Freed replied. He took a long gulp and gasped. “So yeah, despite everything I’ve just said showing you to be a total failure, HR has decided to bump up your pay.”

“Ha, yeah right.” Tom sat there in silence. “That’s a joke right?”

Freed paused and groaned. “Yes Tom, sure. It’s a complete joke. HR is pulling a big fast one on you. Now get the fuck out of my office.” The guards tossed him out by the shoulders. The doors slammed shut and Freed lounged back in his chair. The night before had sucked for everything that he had. “I fucking hate this business.”

The evening news rolled out its crazy intro animation and the announcer came on the air. “We have so much news you might as well listen in the background! This is 666 News.”

The camera zoomed in on Tom’s face as he took the lead. “Welcome viewers. If you’re able to hear this broadcast right now, then you’re a miserable sap who didn’t get their ears blasted last night.”

“Ain’t that the truth Tom,” said Katie. “According to reports, over five hundred party-goers had the time of their lives over at Hell’s own Happy Hotel for the return of Hell’s new up-and-comer Bassmaster. His sudden reappearance has the music world talking about his new label and his battle with he-who-shall-not-be-named. Delightful.”

“As a reminder, it’s bass the fish, not the instrument. Also, how can you return if you’re still new?”

“That’s the marketing budget talking Tom. Also BassmasternewalbumRippleEffecthittingnextweek.”

“What?”

“What?”

Tom paused. “In other news tomorrow sports the 2116th anniversary of Barbarian Gab’s death, further cementing his hold as Hell’s oldest mortal.”

“It makes you wonder how someone like him can stay alive for so long.”

“Well he’s blithering mad, but hey, if he can do it why can’t we?”

“In any case, I’m going to keep losing the betting pool every time he doesn’t meet with the Angels.”

“That sure is something. So what’s your usual average going right now?”

“Fuck off Tom.”

After the show ended and the two were allowed to go home, Tom pulled Katie over into a side hallway where no one was looking. A stupid not-grin plastered his face. “You did that didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“The pay raise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She tried to walk off but Tom stopped her. “I said I don’t know!”

Tom attempted to not piss her off. Attempted. “You do care about me, don’t you Katie?”

“Not as much as you think.”

“I mean, who would decide to be good just because, right?”

“Stop it.”

“I heard that from somewhere-.” It was at that moment that Tom remembered an old rule he learned back when he was young, if you want someone to turn rotten, criticize them for doing the right thing. He remembered it right when Katie’s heel pinned him to the wall by the neck.

“There, happy Mister Quick Shot?” She asked. Of course Tom didn’t respond. She let him go quickly enough and the two stared off at each other for a good minute. Katie decided to break the ice. “You’ve been more upbeat recently.”

“Have I?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know. That’s your issue. Did you get back together with that skank with the pink hair?”

“Haven’t seen her.”

“Good.” Katie pulled out a cigarette. “Don’t bother trying. I don’t know what got your dick so crazy about her but it wasn’t you. I don’t wanna see that shit again.”

“Right.” More silence, enough to let Katie to finish smoking before tossing the bud aside. Tom leaned against the wall trying to figure out what was going on. Was she going to be nice? Was she doing this as a joke? Who was the real Katie? There was only one thing certain and that was that she was expecting him to find out which one. It was oddly relaxing.

“Alright I’m getting the fuck out of here,” she said, making her way out of the hall. “By the way, Tom. I have no evening plans tonight. You wanna grab some drinks?”

Tom was about to answer but then he slapped himself. “I can’t. I have something important to do tonight. What about Sunday?”

Katie was about to laugh but she slapped herself. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Night Tom.”

“Night Katie,” and the two parted.

Halfway between the studio and Tom’s apartment was a rinky-dink convenience store that had the sludge he needed for his nutritional shakes along with other straw based needs. The weather outside was getting dicey with rapid clouds coming in, not uncommon in Hell but still an inconvenience, especially since he didn’t bring his own. He had to move as quick as possible.

His lanky body swung through the cramped aisles like it was nothing and boxes upon boxes of instant shit piled up in his basket. At some point he thought to himself why not to try cooking for a change, but then the lack of taste still had its issues. Hell was being Hell all over again.

Tom steered around the corner around a giant mountain of flower bundles and accidentally bumped into someone, causing them to bash foreheads. “Ow!” he yelled. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Watch where you’re going dumbass!” Cherri replied. The struck look as they stared at each other was haunting. Cherri panicked and pulled in her ace. “Hey Angel, this is my friend Tom, say hi to him.”

Angel, who wasn’t even paying attention, turned on his charisma in an instant. “Hey there Tom, I’ve heard you’re a big fan of me.” He shook his hand and got real close.

“Oh my god, yes!” Tom screamed. “I’ve seen all of your films! Would you like an interview? Would you?” The star power worked for a second as Tom stood inches away from that thick, busty fluff, but then his mind clicked. “Hold on, I can’t...Cherri!” He destroyed his own fantasy to chase after Cherri, leaving Angel to meander in the convenience store a little longer.

When Tom burst out the door he found her waiting outside, having decided to stop running halfway through. She had a bomb at the ready in her hands. “Alright Tom, what do you want?” she asked.

“What do I want?” he replied. “You disappeared on me. How about an apology?”

“Me apologize? What about you and your-?”

“Cherri...”

She paused for a second, rereading the situation. There were a lot of strange text messages on her mind that she wanted to bring up, but this wasn’t about that. “Okay, I’m sorry I bailed on you, okay? Are you happy?”

“I’m in a good mood today.” Tom leaned up against the wall and Cherri followed suit. Tom read the mood. “And I’m sorry for freaking out about it on your phone.”

“Thank god.” Cherri opened up a bottle in the grocery basket she hadn’t paid for. “I saw what happened on the news. You better now?”

“A bit...I assume that means you weren’t there in person.”

“Nope.”

“Figured. How’d you feel about it?”

Cherri struggled. “A little guilty, but also vindicated. I should’ve figured you out from the start. I wasn’t ready for that much baggage.”

“Way to call me out like that,” Tom coughed. “Are you really that scared over me?”

“It’s not like that...Okay it is like that. It’s not like it’s something I haven’t had to deal with before.”

“You thought you were gonna get dragged down with me.”

“I thought I was getting set up for a trap. You were cool and even though you were a huge dork you were really brave. But then the mask came off and...you went too fast.”

Tom sighed. “Yeah, that’s my fault. Honestly I deserved it.”

“Oh quit it Tom. You don’t have time for that shit when you’re in Hell. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Doesn’t stop most people.” The two wouldn’t look at each other. The breach in their trust had erected a barrier between the two of them, a watchtower assuring them that one wouldn’t try to screw over the other. In all honesty they should’ve hated each other. After all anyone who knew everything about someone like Tom or any demon would go screaming for the hills. Of course they should’ve.

“Maybe,” Cherri said, taking a swig. “We started off on the wrong foot.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure some of what you’ve said to me have been lies, but it’s hard to fake having a good time. You aren’t that crazy are you?”

“I’m a lot of things.”

“But you’re fun right?”

“Yeah, I mean, strip away a few issues we’re not that different. Maybe we can start over and-.”

“No, nonononono. There’s a hundred things you’d have to prove before getting anywhere in my pants mate.”

Angel emerged from the convenience store with a scowl. “You assholes left me to pay the bill for all your shit.”

“Did you pay?”

Angel hid his baseball bat. “In a way. So is he partying with us tonight?”

“That’s a good question.” She eyed the newsman. Her body was tense, unsure on how to react. There were still a million questions in her head rolling up into a ball of anxiety, but she was still willing to take a chance.

“Sorry, but I have something to do,” Tom said. He turned to Angel. “You knocked him out pretty cold right?”

“Half an hour maybe.”

“Good, I wasn’t done yet.” Tom rushed into the store.

Angel turned to Cherri. “I don’t know what you see in him.”

“I don’t either,” she replied. “Maybe we really aren’t- WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE!?”

Tom walked out with a big bouquet of flowers. “Oh they’re not for you. I mean, they’re not for anyone but, um, look I can explain.”

Cherri marched up to him and grabbed him by the mask. “I think its time for you to go.”

Tom extended his hand. “Thanks for everything Cherri.”

She kept the glare on him, but she did let go of his mask. She returned the shake and her mood lightened. “Call me up the next time you’re down to party.”

“Someday soon.”

“But seriously what the fuck is all this for?”

The Rhine Institute, a century old tower dedicated for the evil dead of the first World War. It laid on the south side of town near Eligo’s Manor where it stood as a security and mercenary firm for the sinners of Hell, a chance for battle-worn veterans to make cash on the side. Their numbers over the years had waned for decades and after the most recent extermination the building was an empty husk. There were no signs vigils or memorials around the area. It had been a couple of months since the incident and Hell folk weren’t ones for memorials, so the place remained forgotten, a hive for new homeless people to crowd inside under shaky weight.

After everything was said and done, Tom decided to break convention and place flowers at its base. “Not that I was a fan of the lot of ya,” Tom said to himself. “But you guys actually mattered to me. Sorry for your loss.”

It had been thirty years since he’d been to this spot. He had done a field report in the area and passed by when he saw Serge tending to the front of the building keeping a perimeter. The two decided to get lunch together.

“You still don’t have your own show yet?” Serge asked, drinking down puree meat through a straw. “It’s been twenty years. What’s taking you so long?”

“What’s taking me? Why are you still a front door guard?” Tom replied.

Serge laughed. “I’m not a front door guard. I do it to get out of my desk duties. You didn’t know I’m the CFO?”

“You've never bring it up!”

“Why would I it’s awful. It's nothing but delegation this, delegation that. I’ve never been a good leader Tom.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Trust me, I am.” Serge put down his drink. The two of them were very alike, both gas mask abominations although Serge was a lot white in the hair than Tom was. Spiritually he was an old soul. Whatever life he lost while alive had been remade in Hell and now he looked like it. Not that he minded. Mortal souls always have that urge to live the life they lost on Earth. Serge sat there content with what he had lived with. “Why don’t you work for me Tom? I promise it’s not that boring. You’ll get to fight all you want.”

“Thanks but war wasn’t my thing to begin with. There’s other things I want to accomplish.”

“Well hurry up,” Serge sighed. “I know we’re immortal, but death is still among us. Our brothers are already gone, and they didn’t get what they wanted. If you’re gonna move on, move on with a purpose.”

Tom laughed. “Why so serious? I’m in good hands under Vox. I have plenty of time. Maybe I’ll get a new co-host soon.”

“We can only hope. Get a big busty girl why don’tcha?” And both of them laughed.

Tom took a few steps back from the dilapidated structure and gave it one last look. He was the last man standing. Any dreams that they may have held lived with him, and now he had to build his own life, re-find his old meaning, find that golden happiness. He still had his groceries on him and the clouds were just about ready to pour unholy Hell onto the city, but Tom was sure if he was fast enough he could make it back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that concludes this story. Thanks for anyone who read it. I will admit I was rushing to make this every Monday and Tuesday which made this project last longer than expected, but I'm glad to see it finished the way I wanted it to.
> 
> On that note I am on hiatus for awhile. I've been writing 2 days out of the week because 4 days out of the week I've been learning how to draw, and I've been making fanart for Hazbin as KimeraQ on Reddit and @local_raven on Twitter. Hopefully I'll be able to post work relating to some of the fics I've created so far on this platform. Until then, see y'all around.


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